Skip to main content


It was going to be just another weekend I spent at the news room, things moving slower than the weekdays.
But God said "No"!

The clock stuck 6 and there was panic in the room. Television monitors fitted on the walls beaming various channels started disseminating the "panic words".

Blasts, one after another rocked Indian national capital New Delhi. The news room came alive. Suddenly from nowhere hustle and bustle started in the nearly empty room.

Visuals of shattered stalls, charred bodies started pouring in along with "official bytes" and statements of panic stricken eyewitness. As time passed by, panicked channels first reporting four simultaneous blasts at different parts of the capital "confirmed three".

Amidst all these reports about declaration of "Red alert" and "security tightened up" started pouring in. Statements of the police officials were there to substantiate them.

When I stepped out of the office, one of my colleagues prescribed me to look for an "office cab" and to avoid the public transport system. "It's not safe now". One of the blast sites comes on my way to home. But my instinct pushed me to take the public bus either.

"I will get a chance to look at the actual situation. "

I prepared myself to pass through the many security checks, answer to questions of the security personnels, to get caught in panic jam and even to be an eye witness ( or may be one of the victims!) of another blast that might take place.

But in contrast to what I reported, roads were empty just like it happens on any weekend. I saw people strolling in the parks just like...I did not have to pass through a single security check and consequently not to answer a single question from the alerted security personnels. In fact there were not single security personnel seen except for those in the blast site.

Except that Police stopped me from going near the dreaded spot (I did not feel like using my identity card to force an entry). But in spite of the terror strike, there was no trace of terror anywhere. And also no one to stop or prevent any attempt that there can be later.

When I reached home, I found the news channels beaming the terror words which I failed to trace on the streets of the national capital.

I choose to switch over to a movie channel.

"I am also a part of the MST (MACHINE SELLING TERROR)."


jac said…
You have told a plain truth about selling terror, a 100% truth. Congrats.
Harini Calamur said…
it is the same rationale that michael moore gave us for why the americans are so trigger happy as compared to the canadians.
in mumbai i was caught outdoors during the floods. And while it was hair raising, the attitute of much of the people on the roads who were stranded was "f*** it". there was almost a funeral kind of humour that prevailed. Yet, the next day on the news all we saw was misery.
Good news does not sell :)
Soumyadip said…
Well said. That's what media does nowadays - exaggerates.
che said…
You never ceased to amaze me on how good you are in writing. Great blog entry!

*I'm sorry I haven't been doing anything with my blog site..just don't have any clue what to write in there..can't think clear. Take care!

Popular posts from this blog

Firefly Syndrome!

Friday March 24, 2006

Reminder alert of the cell phone dragged me out of sleep at 5:30 in the morning. The screen flashed FMC...FMC...FMC

"Friday Morning Class? Oh shit!"

(It's one of the hundreds of things; I am trying to absorb either into my daily or weekly schedule thanks to my new profile in a KPO.)

That means I will have to reach office 45 minutes earlier than a normal day, sit patiently in the conference room, either listening to the lifeless preaching of an unmotivated 'motivation expert' (something I hate from the bottom of my heart) or struggle to make sense out of a presentation by a Chartered Accountant or an MBA on some topic of their interest. I am the odd man out in such classes. But attending them is mandatory.

While concepts of management always tickle my senses, I feel awkward listening to CAs. The Topics they discuss hardly make any sense to me. So I have find out various ways of utilizing the time I feel I am wasting. When there's no other opti…

Rays of hope...

These days,
I can hear my heart saying
its time
you confront your life,
its time
you nourish dreams
fill some colours
to the grey grey world
And I followed it, added a colour, a crimson colour full of life. I can feel the spaces inside my heart getting filled with sight and smell of rose and sounds of echoing laughter. I can feel it growing fonder, quieter, warmer then ever. I am struggling for words to paint my heart. There are thousands of them.As it usually happens, in these moments I find it difficult to choose the best of them...all of them dearer, all of them nearer...I am sitting quite till they grow strong enough to break the barricade erected long time back. I am waiting for the day they unfold their wings again, to touch the vast blueness above.
These days, I can hear my heart saying the day is not far...

We three...

My echo...Slowly the cracking sounds of the dry leaves died out and I got a feel of the rocky ground I was walking on...only sounds remained were that of wind and the last rays of the setting sun getting reflected after striking on the sharp edges of the uneven rocks..."Is there any one around? Can any one hear me?"...ear me?...r me?...r me?”Words kept on bouncing till they lost all their energy in the roughness of the rocks and died out.
My shadow...
I saw him standing in front of the mirror with the same old tool box. "Hey, what are you doing?""Can't you see? Trying to fix a smile!""What a big job that is?""Why don't you help me out? I have been trying for past one hour. But some how none of the smiles are looking good on my face?" I got busy with the screw driver...fixing different curves on the face, to fix the smile that looks perfect...after struggling for one hour more I also realised, it's not as s…